Dark Seas of Lethe
by Florencia7
Summary: There is a dark sea of Lethe inside of everyone. The trick is not to let yourself drown in it. One-shot set in the middle of AWE. Sparrabeth.


A/N: I wanted to write a longer story for Christmas & this is what came out... It isn't even remotely Christmas-y but... it's fairly long! lol As for the story idea, since even unloaded guns are believed to fire from time to time, I figured that the scenario below could also be possible ;)

Summary: There is a dark sea of Lethe inside of everyone. The trick is not to let yourself drown in it. One-shot set in the middle of _AWE_. Sparrabeth.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_.

**Dark Seas of Lethe**

All the stars were gone.

It was a strange impression but the first one nonetheless, and it made Elizabeth avert her eyes from the sun. Despite the sunrise, she felt very cold, the remnants of the Locker lingering everywhere – in the sea around her... in her soul... her memory... in her hair...

She only half-listened to the conversation but somehow she managed to lift her pistol in time with the others, her eyes taking in the sunlit surroundings as she tried to make herself believe that everything was not lost yet, even if she was still not rising but falling - and collecting bruises and scars in the process.

It seemed that the entire crew started to laugh, so she laughed along. But the fake amusement did not last for long.

"All right, then," Barbossa growled, pointing his pistol at Jack. Elizabeth, Jack, Will, and Gibbs raised their weapons again as well. "The Brethren Court's a-gathering at Shipwreck Cove. And Jack, you and I are going, and there'll be no arguing that point," he said in a low voice, narrowing his eyes at Jack.

"I is arguing the point," Jack snapped, swallowing a few drops of seawater still lingering on his lips after their sudden and short upside down journey. "If there's pirates a-gathering, I'm pointing my ship the other way."

"The pirates are gathering to fight Beckett, and you're a pirate," Elizabeth cut in pointing both of her pistols at him, realizing the involuntary reference only after she had said the words. But he did not seem to notice. Or care...

She was amazed, relieved, overjoyed that he was alive, rescued, back!... So many strange nightmares she had survived fearing the worst, hoping for the miracle that would not have been necessary if it was not for her. She had thought her soul was lost along with his life and now that he was back she thought she might be able to recover her soul. If he would only let her. But his features were hard, his face unreadable.

With a twitch of his nose, Jack returned the favor, trying not to glare at Elizabeth. There was no point in being angry with her. There was no point in being angry with somebody who did not care.

"Fight or not, you're not running, Jack," Will said, causing one of Jack's pistols to turn to him.

"If we don't stand together, they'll hunt us down one by one, till there be none left, but you," Barbossa observed in a low, serious voice.

"I quite like the sound of that," Jack smirked humorlessly. "Captain Jack Sparrow, the last pirate."

"Aye, and you'll be fightin' Jones alone," Barbossa snarled. "And how does that figure into your plan?"

Jack gave him a sour smile, tightening his hold on the pistol in his hand. "I'm still working on that. But I'll not be going back to the Locker, mate. Count on that."

Barbossa squinted but then his eyes grew wide as Jack pulled the trigger.

Everybody held their breath before the realization that the pistol had not gone off dawned on them.

They all started to fire, already knowing that the powder was apparently wet.

Elizabeth "fired", receiving an annoyed look from Jack who, inwardly scolding himself for not "shooting" her first, pulled the trigger-

The sudden sound startled everyone.

Elizabeth gasped more from astonishment than anything else, pain coming only a moment later when she collapsed to the deck.

"No!" Will screamed, petrified.

Jack's face drained of all color, his eyes widening in shock. He dropped his pistol and fell to the deck next to Elizabeth, quickly gathering her into his arms, shouting orders to the bewildered crew.

"What have you done?!" Will screamed, falling to his knees next to Elizabeth, the blood stain on her clothes growing wider with every passing moment.

"Hot water, quick!" Gibbs shouted at Pintel and Ragetti who stood near the stairs.

Wordlessly, Jack picked Elizabeth up from the deck and quickly carried her below, his face as pale as hers.

He looked at her in silent dismay, her head dropping onto his shoulder. He felt his blood freeze in his veins, his life flashing through his mind in mute, chaotic images, and as ran across the corridor he could not get rid of a sudden, abstract, odd realization that he knew would cling to him for that day on:how wonderful was the world in which fearing Teague was the only fear in the world.

* * *

"Leave her alone! You've done enough!" Will shouted, forcing himself into the captain's quarters despite Jack slamming the door shut in his face with his foot.

Still ignoring him, Jack went to a small, adjacent cabin, and carefully placed Elizabeth on his bed. She was not fully unconscious but her eyes were closed and her head was lulling from side to side, drops of sweat appearing on her face.

Jack pulled out his sash and brushed the sweat off her forehead.

"She needs a doctor," Will hissed through gritted teeth looking at Elizabeth in dismay, terrified by his own helplessness. "Elizabeth..." He leaned down over her but then Jack grabbed his arm, pushing him against the door.

"And I need you out," he said in such a low and steady tone that it sent shivers up Will's spine. Jack turned away from him, shrugging off his coat in a hurry.

Ragetti appeared in the doorway, a bowl of hot water in his hands. Gibbs came in a moment later, carrying towels.

"Do you even know what to do?" Will asked sharply after a moment of silence, looking around the cabin frustratedly.

"Get out!" Jack ordered, rolling up his sleeves.

Ragetti dashed out of the cabin.

"See how fast we can get to Shipwreck Cove," Jack said to Gibbs, motioning him toward the door. Gibbs nodded.

"I want to stay here," Will said decidedly, clenching and unclenching his fists. Time was running out and he just hoped Sao Feng would not catch up with them too soon... Everything was going wrong. Everything was just going so very wrong.

"Mr. Gibbs. Take him away before I do something his father might get upset with me for," Jack said to Gibbs quickly approaching the bed, and beginning to rip off Elizabeth's clothes.

Will opened his mouth to speak, but Gibbs pulled him away by his shirt sleeve. "There's nothing you can do. Let Jack handle this. He did it before," Gibbs said in a low voice, turning Will toward the door.

"What did he do before? Did he accidentally kill more people before?" Will's last words reached Jack when Gibbs had already closed the door behind them.

Strangely, the fact that they were finally left alone calmed him down, if only a little.

Jack tore off the entire front of Elizabeth's shirt, and then, sliding one of his hands underneath her, pulled the remnants of the fabrics from under her. He tried not to look at her while doing this but somehow his eyes kept glancing at her chest on their own accord.

He grabbed his sash and angrily brushed drops of sweat off his own forehead. Surely, the Locker heat must have been worse than the rum-runners' island heat, for when he had been marooned he had not contemplated groping people who were on the verge of dying.

Some loose strands of hair fell onto Elizabeth's face as she was tossing her head right and left, so Jack brushed them off, his eyes stopping on her lips.

"_I always knew you were a good man."_

Feeling his fingertips on her face Elizabeth, with the greatest of efforts, blinked her eyes open.

"I didn't think you'd really shoot me," she whispered, struggling not to close her eyes.

Jack winced, darting his eyes to hers. "Lizzie, I-" he shook his head. "It didn't go quite according to plan," he whispered, trying to smile for her sake, and reaching under his bed to snatch a bottle of rum from there.

Elizabeth absent-mindedly looked around the cabin, her head suddenly feeling too heavy to move. She could feel the soft rocking of the ship and she was about to close her eyes again when her gaze stopped on her own chest. "I'm naked," she more stated than asked, outstretching her fingers and feeling surprisingly smooth bedsheets under her palm. Half-consciously, she tried to grab the sheets and lift her hand to cover her chest but her hand refused to move. "I'm naked in your bed," she whispered, breathing heavily, grimacing at the pain accompanying every breath she took.

"Aye, well, that's more according to plan," Jack said, watching her face for a smile but she only coughed. "Here. Drink this, love." Very carefully, he propped her head with his hand, bringing the bottle of rum to her lips. She grimaced but obeyed, taking several sips. "More," Jack insisted despite her mumbled protests.

"It's a vile drink," she muttered between the sips.

Jack smiled. "I know. But it helps. Without it everything hurts like hell," he added quietly, and her eyes, aglow with fever, shifted to him.

He put the bottle away, cupping her cheek with his hand as he eased her head back onto the pillow. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin was burning, the fever making her shudder every few moments.

Moving a bit further away Jack untied his bandanna and then outstretched it over her breasts. "Is that better?" he asked, beginning to clean the wound with hot water-soaked towel.

Elizabeth opened her eyes but gasped instead of saying anything, suddenly very aware of her injury despite the alcohol humming in her head.

"There's nothing on your forehead," she whispered, and he darted his eyes to her face as she slightly tilted her head to the side, trying to keep her eyes open, watching him. "I thought you were hiding something under it," she whispered, tapping the sheets with her fingers. They felt so cool, almost cold against her fingertips. She felt as if there was a tiny flame at the end of each of her fingers. She wondered if she could burn the bedsheets with these flames.

"Perhaps I was hiding the fact that I wasn't hiding anything," he said, concentrating on wiping off the blood, his hand freezing for a moment when he noticed the bullet. At least it had not gone too deep. "Lizzie... I need you to... think about something," he said looking up at her, while reaching for a knife, pouring hot water over it, and then wiping it with a cloth before sliding it into a flame of the candle that Gibbs had left.

Elizabeth watched his every movement with tired, glimmering eyes. "About what?" she asked in such a weak voice that his heart clenched.

Yet, he could not help imagining, if only fleetingly, his name whispered in the very same voice, after a long day, or a long night, her face in his dreadlocks, her arms around his neck-

"Anything," he breathed, fighting off the images. "But it must be something interesting enough to keep you distracted for a while, alright?"

"Distracted?" she echoed, shuddering again, averting her eyes from the knife in Jack's hand.

"Yes," Jack said, clenching his teeth, and lowering the blade.

Elizabeth took a sharp intake of breath. "Maybe..."

He looked up.

"Maybe you could take off your shirt."

Jack blinked.

"I feel too tired to distract myself with something I can't see," Elizabeth whispered, and there was no traces of amusement in her voice although it was difficult to treat her request seriously. For a moment Jack thought she was not serious, but considering the state she was in, it was ridiculous to suspect her of making humorous remarks.

He hesitated for another second but the expression on her face remained the same, so he put away the knife, and then swiftly pulled his shirt over his head and threw it aside. Their eyes locked and he had to painfully bite the inside of his cheek to remind himself that she was wounded, bleeding and that he had to take the bullet out as fast as possible. In these circumstances, thinking about kissing her was probably more than inadvisable.

"Hold on, love," he whispered, his eyes fixed on the bullet.

Elizabeth dug her fingernails into the bedsheets, her eyes roaming over all of the tattoos, labyrinths of words on his back, scars on his forearms. As dangerous as it was, she forced herself to ponder how each of these would feel under her fingertips... would his skin be rougher or softer than it seemed?...

She felt the fever wash over her, slowly, mercilessly, but she did what she could to stay awake, to stay conscious. Her eyelids felt heavier with every passing moment, however, she did manage to lift them almost rapidly at the sound of Jack's voice.

"I got it," Jack said, showing her the bloodied bullet that he held between his thumb and forefinger.

She tilted her head to the side, snuggling her cheek into the pillow. "Sticks and stones," she said slowly with a ghost of a smile flickering across her face.

Jack frowned, putting the bullet away. "It's not like that, 'Lizbeth."

"I know," she replied before he even finished the sentence and their eyes locked again.

"It's not the end, yet. I need to clean and sew this."

Elizabeth swallowed. "I'm cold," she said quietly.

Jack quickly reached for his shirt, awkwardly draping it over her chest. "I'll bring you blankets after-"

"Could I have some water?" she interrupted him in a low voice, running her tongue over her lips that felt so dry she could hardly speak.

"'Course." Jack rose to his feet but then frowned realizing that there was no drinking water in his cabin. Only rum. He thought about going to fetch fresh water but there was no time, and also... he just did not want to leave her alone right now.

"There is no water," he said more to himself than to her.

"I'm not thirsty," Elizabeth said quietly, drawing a shallow breath. "My lips just feel so... so dry." Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed.

Jack's mouth twitched. The idea came to him definitely faster than it should. It was also rather ridiculous but nothing better came to his mind. Besides, she was probably too weak to slap him... in case she would not understand he was merely fulfilling her request to make her lips feel better.

Elizabeth's eyes flew open when she felt Jack's lips on hers. She shuddered and this time he was not sure if it was because of the fever.

He looked at her through half-lidded eyes, uncertain as to her reaction but she did not do anything apart from letting her eyelids fall over her eyes again.

He kissed her very softly and then ran his tongue across her lips before kissing her again. There was something frightening about the familiarity of her lips, as if they had shared not one kiss - but one thousand and one kisses before.

It crossed his mind that if it was simply a way to make her lips feel less dry she probably should not be kissing him back like she was... but it was almost impossible to think clearly when the _Black Pearl _was spinning, stars in all the shades of silver and gold swishing next to his ears, bursting into rainbows under his eyelids-

He drew back suddenly remembering her wound. Her eyes fluttered open and they looked at each other for a moment before Jack jumped off the bed, and took his place further away, getting back to wiping the blood off her skin and avoiding looking at her face.

"That was better than water," Elizabeth said blankly in a barely audible voice, biting her lip when he pressed the cloth soaked in hot water to the wound.

Jack stiffened, trying to keep his hands from shaking. "Better than rum," he muttered after a pause when she already thought he would not say anything. "Better than rum too," he repeated with a trace of sadness in his tone, his throat tightening when he glanced up at her, meeting her strangely thoughtful gaze. He quickly shifted his eyes back to the gash, out of the corner of his eye seeing her making an effort to lift her hand, and then placing it on his shirt that he had draped over her chest. She felt the fabric with her fingertips, tapping them lightly against it.

He pressed the hot cloth to the wound for the last time, whispering apologies at the quiet moaning sound she made.

"No more," he said reassuringly, rising to his feet to take a needle from one of the drawers.

She stopped him before he sat down again.

"My lips... feel dry... again," she said in a soft, faltering voice, looking at him unblinkingly, her eyes blazing with something he would take for anxiety if he was not certain it was the result of high fever.

He thought that perhaps this time he should give her request a second thought, but for some reason he did not much care about her motivations anymore. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers and they exchanged several brief, unhurried, sweet kisses.

When he drew back her breathing was shallow and his no better. Trying to make sense of the situation Jack returned to his place on the edge of the bed, and grabbing a burning candle from the cabinet, he moved the needle inside the flame like he had done before with the knife's blade.

Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on the flame as well but when he put the candle away she tossed her head to the side, snuggling her cheek into the pillow.

Jack's hand stopped for a moment in its actions when she spoke.

"It smells of you," she whispered with her eyes closed, tilting her head more.

He looked at her, his breath catching in his throat. "Does it?" he mumbled not able to come up with a more intelligible answer while his imagination suddenly started conjuring up strangest images of her lips on his shoulder... his face buried in her hair-

She hissed and his eyes widened as he quickly continued sewing instead of keeping the needle in one place. "You were supposed to distract yourself, not me," he said, not quite sure if he should be saying that out loud.

She inhaled deeply, snuggling her nose deeper into the pillow. "I think I've a fever," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"You most certainly do, love," Jack said, suddenly wondering if she would remember any of it on the next day.

They were both silent for a while, except for Elizabeth whimpering from time to time when a twinge of pain reached her through the veils of rum and fever.

He looked up at her when he thought she whispered something, but it must have just been his imagin-

"Kiss," she whispered, slightly pursing her li- her _dry_ lips, her eyes closed.

Jack held his breath. Maybe he was still in the Locker and all of that was not really happening. He _was_ imagining it.

Yet, her blood on his hands felt terrifyingly real, her feverish skin was real, her glimmering eyes, her lips-

Quickly rising to his feet, squeezing the needle between his fingers he leaned over her and slowly brushed his lips along hers before kissing her deeply.

He did not know if it was possible that making her lips feel less dry was really all that she wanted to achieve through letting him kiss her. But he told himself it was quite common for people to behave out of ordinary when they did not feel well so perhaps it was possible, after all.

Going back to taking care of her wound, he cut the thread off with his teeth and then took a long piece of cloth and started unfolding it.

"Lizzie?"

Elizabeth blinked her eyes open and looked at him.

"I need to slide this underneath you," he said, showing her the bandage, before placing it on the bed, and then, gently sliding one of his hands under her to lift her a bit, glided the bandage under her skin.

He told her to relax when the bandage was in place, his hand on her hip, somehow reluctant to let go. Her skin was warm and smooth under his touch and the simple sensation sent shivers through his body all the way to his head. He had never been that aware of every fibre of his body before. Tightening his grip, he glanced at her face almost afraid of what he might see there.

But her face was calm. There was only that glint of something strange in her eyes... At first he thought it was fever only but her eyes were actually, suddenly, surprisingly clear. Clear and... dark.

He withdrew his hand, unrolling the bandage, his fingers skimming across her skin perhaps more often than it was necessary.

"Why did you come back?" Elizabeth asked when he was nearly done, tying the ends of the white cloth together.

His eyes met hers and she knew that despite a moment of silence he had understood her question right away.

He almost smiled realizing that she had noticed him rowing away back then.

"What would you want me to tell you?" he answered her question with one of his own, rising to his feet, and putting away everything that was on the bed or in its close proximity.

"The truth," Elizabeth whispered not following him with her eyes, but looking around the cabin instead.

He snorted faintly under his breath, turning to her. "The truth?" He grabbed the bed cover that had been pushed aside and started tucking it around her. "From me?"

Elizabeth gathered all her strength, pulled one of her hands out from under the cover, and reached for his hand smiling when he lost his balance at her touch and awkwardly slumped onto the bed.

"Unless you don't want me to tell you why I came back," she added, biting her lip, feeling very tired but not wishing to sleep.

She felt his hand shift under hers, his thumb moving up and then falling gently onto her forefinger. "I know why you came back," he said with a small smirk, his eyes serious.

"You do?" She seemed sincerely perplexed for once, her grip around his hand tightening, although he could not tell if she was doing all of that consciously. She was feverish and one could trust feverish people to act... feverish.

"Aye," he said with a twitch of his nose and a bit of nonchalance in his voice that prompted her to give him a similar retort.

"Well, I know why you came back too," she whispered, annoyed, tilting her head to the side and closing her eyes.

"You do?" Jack asked, wrinkling his forehead but quickly regaining his composure. "Very well, then. Since we both know everything there is no reason to talk."

Elizabeth shifted her head again and slowly opened her eyes. "Yes, perhaps there isn't," she said in a soft voice.

They looked at each other in silence for a moment and then Jack felt her hand slide from above his, and before he managed to stop himself he hurriedly closed her hand in his, not letting her take her hand away.

"Jack-"

His lips descended onto hers and despite the fever pulsating in her head she even lifted her head a bit to meet his lips sooner.

Her hand clasped in his, he slid his other hand under her head and kissed her. With less uncertainty than before. Gently, deeply, arrogantly - all at once.

She was not able to follow her thoughts anymore. There was nothing, nothing that mattered except for the intoxicating recognition of truth in his kiss that flooded over her, washing away everything she had ever done wrong. All of a sudden she was at the beginning of the road again. Everything was fresh and possible and undiscovered, and she could start everything anew.

Partly because of the necessity to breathe, partly because of a loud noise coming from the main cabin at last they broke the kiss. Elizabeth tilted her head to the side, snuggling her face into his hand that he still kept under her head.

"Lizzie-"

She looked at him and her gaze suddenly rendered him speechless. It was all real.

He shook his head in annoyance. "You should sleep... rest." He moved his hand from under her head to her face, running the backs of his fingers over her cheeks before drawing his hand away, glancing up at her almost meekly.

She smiled faintly. "Stay here," she whispered in a tired voice. "Could you stay here? With me?"

"I'm not sure I'm the right person to be watching over you," he said in a low voice, expecting her to frown but she smiled again.

"Unless it wasn't you who just kissed me, yes, I think you are," she whispered, and then winced, the conversation, the effort to stay conscious making her more aware of the still hurting wound.

"Rum?" he asked, reacting to the expression on her face instead of her words that made him strangely anxious.

"No." Elizabeth shook her head. "A story."

* * *

"Why does it take so long?" Will shot Gibbs a grim look pacing around the main cabin.

"It depends on how deep the wound is," Gibbs muttered uncertainly, also thinking that it was taking too long. "But Jack knows what he's doing," he added with more conviction in his voice.

"Yes," Will snorted faintly. "As always," he said turning away from Gibbs. "We should pick up supplies and fresh water before heading for Shipwreck Cove," he said after a pause in a hollow voice, his eyes fixed on the window.

"Aye," Gibbs nodded, looking around the cabin, and then walking toward Jack's maps-covered desk. "We won't make it far without fresh water, that's for sure." He picked one of the maps up from the table.

"Can I see it?" Will asked, reaching for the map. He spread it on the desk, and looked at it intently for a moment before pointing to a small spot, his voice a bit strained as he spoke. "There is a freshwater spring on this island."

* * *

Elizabeth pressed her cheek to his shoulder, looking up at him with eyes so misty from fever that it crossed Jack's mind that he was taking advantage of her.

"_Pirate."_ He reminded himself reassuringly, tightening his embrace around her.

She slightly turned from lying on her back to turning onto her healthy side and only then he remembered that he was shirtless.

And so was she.

Trying to keep his eyes from widening even more, he patted the cover with which he had covered them as they were laying together... in bed...

He grimaced,. It was all so confusing. Maddeningly unhelpful, really. If he was still in the Locker, it was certainly the best hallucination he had so far. If he was not in the Locker... then perhaps he should stop wishing to kiss - and _again_ too! - somebody who had actually sent him there.

Although he could not help reminding himself that it was his own negotiation skills (or rather the lack of them at that time...) that had condemned him to the Locker in the first place.

"Another one," Elizabeth whispered with a trace of impatience in her voice, nudging Jack with her foot.

He tried to remember when he had pulled her boots off her feet but his mind was so blurred he could hardly recall anything at all apart from the present moment.

"You wanted _a_ story, love, and I already told you _three_ stories. I really think you should go to sleep-"

"Another one," Elizabeth insisted, tapping him on the chest.

Jack sighed, his breath catching at the feeling evoked by her palm spread open on his chest, emitting so much warmth that it easily radiated from that one spot to his entire body.

"Lizzie-"

"Another one," Elizabeth muttered in an annoyed tone, closing her eyes.

Jack touched her forehead. She had a fever but it did not seem to be high anymore, although he could still feel shivers running through her from time to time.

"Last one. And you need to promise me that you'll fall sleep immediately after," he said, moving his hand from his forehead, and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Why should I promise you anything if you didn't promise me anything?" she asked drowsily, to Jack's horrified delight nuzzling his neck.

"You didn't ask me to promise you anything," he choked out, trying to keep his breathing even.

He slowly ran his hand up and down her bare arm, allowing himself to run away with his imagination for a moment, imagining that she was not injured but merely exhausted after-

"I'm worse," Elizabeth whispered with a small, tired chuckle.

Jack's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Liz-"

"I was rich and now I'm poor, I was healthy and now I'm sick," she continued without giving him a chance to ask her what she was talking about. "And you hold me," she snuggled her cheek against his chest, her eyes closed. "Only that death did us part already," she added with a small pout.

Jack blinked a few times trying make sense of her words, checking her forehead for fever once again. He should go get her some herbs to drink. They had run out of all the supplies already, but perhaps there was something left of herbs, seeing that nobody ever wanted to drink them.

"But we're alive... so it's still the same, only a little... backwards," she whispered.

"Lizzie..." Jack looked at her worriedly but she cut him off again.

"We're half way through."

"Half way through what?" Jack asked, wrinkling his forehead.

"Through the vows," Elizabeth said with a smile, as if it was obvious. She shuddered again, and he also saw that she winced, the pain emitted by the wound apparently still bothering her.

"Vows?" he echoed without thinking, trying to think of the fastest way to get to the Cove. He had to consult the maps and see if they could-

Vows.

"Vows?" he repeated again with a hint of alarm in his voice.

"Funny," Elizabeth muttered to herself, apparently not listening to him.

To Jack's further bafflement, she laughed under her breath, and he waited a moment before deciding to ask her once again-

But he felt her tremble and when he looked at her she was not smiling anymore but crying.

"Lizzie," he wiped the tears off her face with the back of his hand, looking at her anxiously. He turned more onto his side, gathering her into his arms.

"I want to go back," she whispered, choking on the tears.

He cupped her cheek with his hand, and looked at her intently. "Where?" he more mouthed than asked.

She looked at him, blinking as if she was trying to see his face through her tears. "To the past," she said at last in a cracking voice. "To me," she said, drawing a deep breath. "To me before all of that," she said looking at him with such sadness in her eyes that it made his heart clench. "To me," she whispered, almost surprised by her own words, slowly sitting up in bed. "To me."

She closed her eyes when he kissed her but a moment passed before she started kissing him back.

When they drew apart, he snuggled her head into his chest, burying his face in her hair. "You don't have to go back, 'Lizbeth. You're here. It's you. Nothing's changed. It's still you. It will always be you." He kissed the top of her head and locked his arms around her, staring into the empty air with eyes full of dark memories. "No matter what happens, no matter what anybody tells you, no matter what you'll be forced to see or do."

His low, firm voice calmed her down and she stopped crying and simply listened to him.

He drew back and took her face in his hands. "Don't let anybody take this away from you," he said looking deeply into her eyes. "Don't let anybody take _you_ away from you," he said with a trace of a smile flickering across his face.

She looked at him and he had a brief impression that all the fever, tiredness, drowsiness was suddenly gone from her face when she very slowly nodded, looking at him with a glimpse of clear understanding in her eyes.

His features relaxed but she could still see a myriad of untold stories flashing in his eyes and several tears rolled down her cheeks. He leaned down, inching his lips to her ear.

"Your soul is clear as water," he whispered ardently and her breath caught. "Never forget that."

She slid her hands over his shoulders and wrapped her arms around his neck. "What about the rest?" she asked softly against his lips. "What about your heart, your mind, your memory..."

"There is a dark sea of Lethe inside of everyone, Lizzie. The trick is not to let yourself drown in it."

She smiled brokenly, pressing her cheek to his. "I think I know somebody who is good at rescuing me from drowning."

She felt a corner of his mouth twitch against her skin. "Is that a confession?" His voice was smooth, careful.

"Is it a request for a confession?" she asked quietly.

He was silent for a while. "A request for a confession would be a confession in itself," he said at last in a thoughtful voice.

She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek harder to his, and it crossed her mind that she had never been that close to anyone before. "Should I request a request for a confession, then?"

"Requesting a request for a confession would also be a confession," he said cautiously, trying to add a trace of humor to his voice.

Slowly, she drew back to look at him, and for the first time he realized that he had always known her. He knew everything about her. He knew what she looked like a hundred years before they had met. He knew what she would say when she was silent. He knew her every thought without knowing what exactly she was thinking about. Her every word, smile, gesture was easy to understand. Everything was clear. Everything about her was clear – to him. Like a mirror.

He cupped her cheeks with his palms and brought her face closer to his. "I-"

"Me too," she whispered quickly.

"Jack!" Gibbs started as soon as he opened the door but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight.

Elizabeth gasped and ducked under the bed cover, stifling a hiss of pain when she carelessly hurt her bandaged wound in the process. She wondered how it was possible that she had forgotten about the state she was in for those few moments in Jack's arms... Now she felt exhausted and feverish again.

Jack winced, placing a comforting hand on her form hidden under the cover and narrowing his eyes at Gibbs. "Yes, Mister Gibbs?"

Gibbs blinked, still recovering. "I'm... I'm afraid," he stammered at last, "complications ensued, as it were."

"Ah," Jack snorted sourly under his breath. "I even happen to know the name of said complications. Captain Barbossa," he muttered, annoyed, pulling his shirt out from under the bed cover.

"Actually..." Gibbs grimaced. "The complications' name is... Turner." Elizabeth sat up in bed. Gibbs politely averted his eyes from her. "Captain Turner," he amended.

Jack dropped his shirt.

"What?" Elizabeth exclaimed incredulously.

"This place is worse than the Locker," Jack said dejectedly after a pause with a trace of sincere astonishment in his voice.

Elizabeth propped her chin on Jack's shoulder and said with a small smile that he returned as soon as she said: "But the company is infinitely better."


End file.
